Fix You
by theskyinflames
Summary: On one particular cold, stormy night Cammie Morgan and Zach Goode cross paths. She saves his life only to come to realize he wanted to die. The two slowly get attached as buried secrets, hidden lies and true intentions unravel. Cammie wants to save Zach not only from his world but from himself. But can she fix something that is broken beyond repair?
1. 0

**0.**

**H**e didn't know how to feel.

Well, that was what he would tell himself. But in reality he didn't know _what_ to feel.

_Fuck reality._

He was sitting on the thick wood of the railroad tracks, just starring out into the distance. Usually his nights consisted of him going to a wild party or riding his skateboard around the town with some others. But then there were nights when he would go to the tracks, watch the waves and just think.

This was one of those nights.

When he would go there was almost never planned and never expected. _Why_ he went there, however, he knew perfectly well. He used to convince himself that he would go there to take a break from life- when all he would do was trap himself, with nobody but himself and his thoughts.

Him going to his usual spot on the railroad tracks, merely watching the free water was suppose to be his refuge- his _escape_. But all it caused him to do was think. Think more about things he rather leave alone.

He didn't want to think anymore.

The silver flask he always carried around was already on his lips and almost gone. The vodka burned only slightly as it traveled down his throat. He'd even say it didn't effect him anymore.

He was tired.

Tired of watching his mother slowly die.

_Three weeks._

That's how long the doctor said she had at most.

Tired of pretending that he actually liked the people who consider themselves his "friend" because he "knows how to have a good time".

_No one._

That's who he really has.

Tired of acting like everything was okay.

_Nothing._

That's what was okay.

His hand went to grab a cigarette out of his pocket, only to find an empty pack. He then went to take another swing of the vodka only to realize he unintentionally drank it all.

He stood up from the tracks, his body slightly swaying, and he threw the empty cigarette pack to the side. He started to walk towards the ocean, just looking up at the dark storm clouds that swirled above.

Suddenly he was forced to stop.

A metal bar.

That's all that was separating him from the untamed water below.

He climbed onto the bar, and that's when he realized he knew what he was planning to do all along. He realized what the solution to all his problems were- what the end to all his pain was.

Death.

His arms wobbled as he spread them to his sides, and his legs were shaking just trying to keep him remotely balanced.

The harsh wind hit his face and raindrops gradually fell from the sky. He finally felt a small pang of freedom unravel in his chest, maybe he would even consider it, subordinately, happiness.

But then he saw _her_.

Her deep brown eyes that looked like melted chocolate, her heart-shaped face, and her beautiful smile.

That was all gone now, though. She was gone.

She was _dead_.

The freedom, the happiness? Well, that was dead and gone too.

_You don't have to wait for me anymore, Addie._

He leaned forward and forward, until he deliberately started to loose the little balance he had.

A storm was coming in that night.

He knew that.

That's how he knew, as he finally lost the balance and fell, that if the fall didn't kill him, the waves surely would.

He couldn't help but to finally feel ironically alive, even though he knew that was only caused by the uncontrollable perception of his life being stripped away from him as he continued to fall faster and faster.

All of a sudden his body crashed into the cold and violent waters, it did, in fact, hurt. But that's what he wanted, even as it worsened as the waves collided into him and dragged him under.

Water started to make it's way into his mouth then to his lungs. It was probably the epitome of the word suffering- as his body fought for his life and his mind craved his death. It was a war between the two, his body and his mind. His instinct to survive and his strategy to stop the suffering.

He stopped breathing and felt nothing but the pain slowly being taken away as he fell into a never ending world of darkness.

He smiled.

* * *

**S**he continued to run away from the car even as her name abided to be shouted behind her.

She was sick of the excuses.

The everlasting lies.

All she wanted was her mother to finally be proud of her- but that was near impossible.

No, it _was_ impossible.

How could someone possibly be proud of a girl who had so many regrets hanging over her head- so many mistakes written and embarked all over her?

You can't.

She tried to hold in the tears the threatened the corners of her eyes, but she let them go, knowing that with the rain you couldn't be able to tell anyways.

Her legs carried her until she made sure she couldn't hear her name anymore, her legs gave out and she fell onto the wet sand.

She wasn't nearly as tired as she thought, nor wet for that matter. She just brought her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

Her eyes were glued to the sky for several moments, before she got tired of the constant raindrops and stared into the wild sea.

The fierce waves crashed forcefully onto the abandon shore, they all moved savagely, up and down, over and under- just all around in a frenzy.

As she watched the currently brutal ocean, just to block everything out- she noticed something.

At first she dismissed it as a piece of driftwood or maybe even some random garbage- but that didn't seem right. She realized, as she continued to stare into the sea that the object was too bulky and too oddly shaped to be any garbage or drift wood. The object seemed too long and moved awkwardly in the crazed waves.

A few more long seconds past before it finally dawned on her what the object had to be.

_A body_.

She felt her heart instantly stop- she froze.

It didn't feel real. She couldn't be right.

However, she knew it was real and with several seconds of more analyzing she knew she did not mistaken.

Within an instant she grabbed her phone and hurriedly dialed 9-1-1, she let the phone ring and stripped her jacket off and wrapped the phone in it before placing it onto the beach.

She then pulled off her heels, ran into the uncontrollable myriad of waves and dived into them. She could feel herself being pushed and pulled in every direction.

The whole time she felt a plenty of fear and adrenaline race throughout her veins. Regardless of the endless amount of water that covered her and forced her into a different direction- she knew she had to get to the body. She couldn't just walk away from the beach knowing that if she was right, that she could have helped them- maybe even save them.

The ocean seemed to give her mercy. She made it to the body.

She grabbed for the body with all the strength her icy body could manage, and oddly enough she did it successfully. She tried to get the body in a proper situation so she could pull it back harmlessly.

Which wasn't such a success, but it managed.

She dragged the body- which she now knew was in fact a boy, a possible _dead_ boy, but she didn't give the boy a second glance nor inspection.

The way back to the beach was more difficult and aggravating, nevertheless, she was nearly there. For a few seconds she could feel the boy slipping out of her arm as the waves worsened. The water got more fierce and numerous waves clashed over her, colliding into one. She tightened her grip on him, as hard as she could, and she continued fighting against the sea. The wave crashed into her, she could feel the force hit against her and threating her grip- but she didn't let loose.

She gasped for air, taking a moment to gather herself- she now could see the forsaken beach not too far from her.

"We're almost there!" She shouted- more to herself then the possible lifeless corpse.

As she became nearly there, her leg got tangled in something- she thought it was most likely seaweed. With a few kicks she thankfully escaped, and she knew she was almost back. She felt a mixture of gratitude and fear swirl inside her, she didn't know which to feel for various reasons.

She ignored the reasoning and focused on her actions, as well as inwardly hoping that the boy in her arm was alive.

With a few more effortful strokes- she was on land.

She dragged the boy onto the beach, just to the point where the water didn't wash up, and she dropped to her knees next to him.

Within an instant, she placed her cold, shaky hands onto his chest and began doing compressions. She noticed the water rise out of his dark T-shirt with each amount of pressure.

She then tilted his head back and put her mouth on his, silently praying that something- just anything would happen.

Blue.

Everything, at that particular moment, seemed to be blue.

From the faint blue of his lips that seemed as if he was simply eating a blueberry Popsicle, to the dark scattered splotches of blue that dotted certain areas of his face, revealing an unnatural pale glow.

But then there was another shade of blue. It was a magnificent shade of blue, with several spots of dark green. It resembled the sky, just before the sun was entirely gone and minutes before the moon took its place. She couldn't help but to notice how shameless and not to mention symbolic it was.

It symbolized not just life in general- but _his_ life.

His eyes continued to blink as he started to cough uncontrollably and harshly. He took numerous unsteady breaths, sounding almost animalistic.

She felt a huge amount of weight being lifted of her shoulders. She felt the exhaustion and fear drift away.

_He was alive._

She couldn't help but to smile even more as she heard the sirens closing in.

Everything, in that moment, seemed to be a miracle. To her it _was_ a miracle. That's when she realized something else as she peered into the shade of blue.

At first she saw a mixture of confusion and surprise, but that was replaced with something else as he stared back at her.

Anger.

Even as the abundance of police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks appeared, she couldn't look away.

Not even as the boy was lifted onto a gurney and she was ambushed by a few policemen with a never ending amount of questions.

As she kept a hold of the boy's glare, she realized something else. Something that made her heart sink even more as he fell unconscious and the ambulance doors slammed.

_He wanted to die._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_This is only the prologue, chapters will be in first-person and longer._

**Disclaimer: **

_The Gallagher Girls series are the work of Ally Carter. I only, sadly, own my characters and plot. _


	2. 1

**1.** _Cammie  
_

"**P**lease, ma'am, just let me see him," I pleaded, "I just want to see if he's-"

I stopped mid-sentence. The receptionist shot me one final glare, I could see the annoyance and irritation written all over her face. She was even slightly chelnching her jaw, her fingers tapping the high wrap-around desk she sat behind aggressively.

"I am only going to say this _once_ more," The receptionist replied, trying to keep her voice calm. "Visiting hours, as it says on the sign right behind you, starts at nine A.M and ends at five-thirty P.M. Currently, the time is only around two in the morning. The only other way I can allow you to see the patient is if you are blood related- which you confirmed to the police that you are not."

I narrowed my eyes towards the digital clock that was located near the exit. I could see that it was only, in fact, 2:21 in the morning.

Since the accident- or well, _incident_, I have been in the waiting room of the hospital that was located closest. It was only thirty minutes away from my house, but I didn't leave. I couldn't leave.

I needed to see that the boy was okay.

I attempted and asked to see if he was doing okay several times. Maybe around sixteen different points in the course of five hours. Of course with the same receptionist who, to shorten it, wanted to call security a variety of times.

"Okay," I sighed, finally defeated. "I apologize for the trouble."

My legs barely carried me back to the plastic seat that I occupied for the last few hours. My mind was exhausted. My body was exhausted. _I_ was just entirely exhausted. The last place I wanted to be was in that chair.

I wanted to be near the boy. I wanted to make sure he was at least breathing still- even if it was just a quick peek through the small glass portion of the door.

Maybe it seemed strange- that I wanted to see him. Maybe me spending all this time here waiting, obsessing over if he was alive or not, was odd.

He was a stranger. I probably, if I ever did see him again, would have a lot to ask, and I probably wouldn't get an answer, or even see him ever again. But that would be fine. I just needed assurance.

"I think you should head home, sweetie." A lady next to the receptionist suggested. She sent me a sincere smile, "I'm sure he'll still be here when you get back. You need some rest."

But maybe he wouldn't be.

She was right, however, it took all the energy I had left get rise from my spot and reply, "I should."

"Don't worry, sweetie," She stated as I made my way towards the exit. "He'll be just fine."

I flashed her a quick smile. I wanted to believe he would be. I really did. But I couldn't.

Alive or dead, I couldn't see him. At least not anytime soon. Staying here really wouldn't make any difference.

A small part of me kept asking why I even wanted to be here, why not be happy that I at least got him this far? Why did I insist on having to see him?

The other half of me already knew why.

She would have wanted me to do this.

* * *

**A**fter I called Bex from the payphone located directly outside the hospital doors I waited on the side of one of the parking lots near the entrance.

To say Bex was irritated by me waking her up close to three o' clock in the morning was a bit of an understatement.

She was _furious_.

Until I mentioned the hospital, then she said she'd be there in five minutes.

I knew Bex was almost here. I knew only because I could hear the song Light 'Em Up by Fall Out Boy being blasted, which was one of her favorite songs, from blocks away.

Her bright red Beetle pulled up next to me, she had to drive this ever since she got into a accident, for the sixth time, with her brand new Camaro. Lets just say the Baxters learned that their daughter and fast cars did not mix well.

I slid into the passenger seat and Bex turned off the radio. We drove out of the hospital parking lot in silence, until she decided to ask, "Are you going to tell me why I had to get you at three in the morning from a bloody hospital? Did something...bad happen?"

I could see the worry and concern lacing throughout her light brown eyes. She knew my experience with hospitals.

In my head I rehearsed ways to tell her bluntly what had happened. How I jumped into the ocean to save some unconscious boy. That I wouldn't leave the hospital, refused, I just needed to see him.

I still needed to see him.

I summed up the whole incident. What happened. How it happened. But one question still remained- _why_? Just why?

To say that question was silently tearing me apart wasn't so far from the truth.

After I told Bex, she raised both of her eyebrows and she was stunned to say the least. "Well, I guess those swimming lessons our moms forced us to take really did pay off."

"I guess they did." I replied, my eyes watching as the darkness of our surroundings blurred past us.

My clothes weren't wet anymore, but they were full of sand and smelt like the faint stench of sea water and the unsettling smell of a hospital. It wasn't the best combination, to put it shortly. My phone was now in the back pocket of my jeans, and most likely water damaged. But that, frankly, was the last thing on my mind.

I could still see his dark eyes burned into my memory. They seemed like they were full of abhorrence and so much anger. And when they weren't covered with the anger I saw, they seemed almost...empty.

"You're kind of like a hero now, Cam." She inquired. "You should be happy- you saved a life. Not a lot of people would have done what you did."

I don't think he'd put it that way.

I flashed her a small smile, "Thanks, for doing this. I really appreciate it."

She nodded her head, ignoring me, "You know, I can tell you're worried. He'll be okay, Cammie. You did everything you could do."

All I could manage was a slight nod. To act like I believed it, but to be honest, I didn't know.

Twenty minutes later we were pulling up my long drive way. I could see the sun coming up faintly in the distance. I could feel myself being relieved that I could finally get some rest.

I grudgingly stretched and prepared to open the car door.

"Thank you Bex," I said as she came to a stop in front of my house. "Really, I couldn't have-"

"Asked for a better friend?" She raised her eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Just do me a favor and save someone's life earlier in the day next time."

I smiled back, but couldn't allow myself to say anything.

"Or just take a shower and get some sleep," She added, "No offense but you look like Hell...smell kind of disgusting too."

A short laughed escaped my lips, I probably did. "Goodnight Bex. Thanks again."

"Anytime. I'll see you tomorrow." She responded as shut the car door.

Bex soon vanished from my sight and I made my way up the large concrete steps to my house, inserting my key into the large oak doors.

I opened the door almost silently and gingerly locked it, trying not to wake anyone up. I did my best to tip-toe up the stairs and find my way to my bedroom.

Once I got to my bedroom I flopped onto my canopy bed, and wrapped myself up in the comforter. I was too exhausted to bathe, or even change out of my clothes for that matter.

My eyes flickered over to the clock on top of my bedside table, the dark red letters reading 4:09 AM.

_Only five more hours._

With that, I quickly fell unconscious.

Three simple and monotonic knocks echoed lightly. It was just enough to make my eyes snap open.

"Miss. Morgan, your breakfast is ready." A voice stated. "In fact, it has been ready for quite some time now."

I could feel a slight ache in my body as I stretched. I pulled the comforter off of me and slowly rose from my bed.

At first it felt like my normal routine, but then I noticed that I was still wearing my jeans and the events from yesterday came rushing back to me.

My eyes darted to my alarm clock, that now read 10:27 AM.

I ran to my closet and pulled out a simple hoodie and a pair of jeans, bringing them along with me into the hallway. I knew I had enough time to take a quick shower and make it to the hospital. And to, hopefully, see him.

The warm water poured over me, making my body finally relax. The fact that the boy may not even still be there crossed my mind, but in reality, that was okay. That meant _he_ was okay.

Once I finished showering I changed into my clean pair of clothes, setting my other ones that smelled even worse now into the laundry basket.

I didn't bother to apply any make up or make an attempt to look nice. I only brushed my knotted hair and grabbed my phone, even though I was overly positive it was completely water damaged.

My car keys were already in my hand as I tried to escape through the front door, but I was forced to stopped once I heard someone clear their throat behind me.

"And where do you think you're going?"

I turned to face the women behind me in her uniform, her hands crossed in front of her chest and her eyes not leaving mine.

"I have to go, Alma it's important-"

She interjected, "_Breakfas_t is important. The breakfast I pacifically cooked for you _hours_ ago. It's my responsibility to take care of you while your mother is away, and serving you breakfast is apart of that responsibility."

Arguing with Alma was like trying to fight a battle you can't win- a battle you surely _won't_ win. I learned that the hard way over the six years I knew her.

"I apologize, I overslept this morning-"

"I'm well aware of that," She snapped. "Did you think I didn't notice your absence at one in the morning? God knows where you were or when you came home. I fell asleep waiting for you worried sick! And now you think I'm just going to let you waltz out of here like your actions don't have consequences-"

"Last night was an emergency," I interfered, knowing she would go on forever. "This is too. I promise I will be home in an hour, okay? I'll eat all the food you want me to eat, but now I really have to leave."

She looked skeptical as she stared back at me, her entire body as still as a marble statue.

Whether she truly believe me or not, I couldn't tell. But she narrowed her eyes at me and questioned, "An hour?"

I nodded.

"Go. But don't make me regret this, child."

* * *

** I** didn't know what I expected.

Maybe I expected he was already gone. That he left at the exact moment he could and I would never see him again.

Maybe I didn't really expect for the receptionist who I was _kindly_ acquainted with to allow a nurse to guide me to his hospital room.

And maybe, just maybe, I was expecting the boy to be...well, different from how he was.

The nurse opened the door, and she gestured inside. I cautiously walked in and she gently closed the door behind me.

My feet carried me a good distance, just enough space was between me and the bed he lay on. Apart of me secretly hoped he was sleeping, and the other half questioned why I was such a coward.

He looked remotely better. His features were not blue anymore, and his skin was no longer a deadly color. Plus, he was breathing.

So, in the end, everything was perfectly fine, right? No. Of course not.

That's when he looked at me, I could tell he did not even know I was in the room. I noticed the shock cross his face, but that only lasted a split second before it was briskly replaced with blankness.

"How...are you feeling?" I hesitantly asked. I couldn't help but to feel nervous as he stared at me.

"Fine."

"...Good."

Silence eloped us. I found myself wanting to ask so many questions- like _how_. How did he even end up in the ocean? I mean, it's not like you just decide to go swimming during hurricane weather.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," I stated, breaking the silence. "I...I was the one who...found you in the water."

I saw something I couldn't identify flicker in his dark eyes. It was strange- how they looked empty yet so deadly at the same time.

"I'm fine," He replied short and emotionless.

I thought briefly about what I was going to ask next. "How did you end up there? Do you remember?"

"Does it matter?" He retorted. His voice was as sharp as knives as he continued, "You don't need to be here."

I remembered the way his eyes screamed with anger that night I pulled him from the water and he realized what happened. I dismissed it. I thought it meant nothing, or that I misinterpreted what I saw.

I was wrong.

"Yeah, in fact it _does_ matter." I replied, crossing my arms around my chest. What I asked next left my mouth slowly, and as soft as I could manage. "Was it an accident?"

I saw his jaw clench, but everything else stayed still.

"Leave."

I didn't know him. Maybe he was naturally that frustrating and stubborn.

But so was I.

"Why?" I questioned, even though I had an idea.

"Leave, or I will."

I opened my mouth to respond, and just that gestured was enough for him to rip the IV out of his right arm. He pulled aside the thin, white bedspread and attempted to get up.

Before he could I raced over to him, I could feel a mixture of surprise and panic hit me. My hands were almost touching his broad shoulders, threatening to push him back down if he went to get up.

His body was too weak, he and I both knew that.

"Don't get up," I said, "Please."

He didn't move, and his eyes beneath his thick eyelashes were narrowed at the wall.

I looked at the IV that was currently out of his arm and hanging freely. I gingerly grabbed it, and I glanced from the IV back to his arm.

My hand went to reach for his arm, but I thought better of it.

"Should I get the nurse to put this back in?" My voice lightly cut through the silent tension.

"You should go." His voice wasn't demanding, but it wasn't an open plea either.

I released the IV, and for a second, I gave in. I turned around, getting a distance away from him before I felt myself stop.

I spun around. "I didn't have to risk my life to save yours. The least you could do is say "thank you" or maybe even act remotely grateful!"

He remained motionless, his eyes stared straight ahead as he responded, "You shouldn't have."

At first, I wondered if he was trying to be sarcastic. Maybe just trying to go the extra mile to get to me. But I realized it was almost too bland and too quiet, like he was saying it to himself.

I felt my brows knit in curiousity. I questioned hesitantly, "What do you mean?"

At first I thought he would just ignore me, but his eyes met mine once more as he replied, "Risked your life."

Me risking my life, but nothing about him loosing _his_. I felt about a hundred more questions sound off in my head. The whole situation was strange- maybe even ominous.

"But you could have died," I stated, "It was the right thing to do."

"No," His voice was low and dangerous, his face emotionless. "It wasn't."

In a way, I had a feeling what it all meant. The reality behind the way he acted and spoke. I just didn't want to believe it.

Before I could question him more or even ask his name, two people wandered in. One was a nurse with short, blonde hair and the other was a doctor with a overly charming smile.

The doctor looked from him to me, "Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"She was just leaving."

His voice was empty, just too plain. Almost a careless, bored tone but...damaged. I stole one more glance at him. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed with the bleach white sheets to the side. Within seconds he looked away and the nurse placed her hand lightly on my back, guiding me out the door.

I knew that wouldn't be the last time I saw him.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Please tell me what you think so far!_

**Disclaimer:**

_The Gallagher Girl series and characters are the work of Ally Carter. I own, sadly, my characters and the plot. _


	3. 2

**WARNING: **

The following chapter will portray sensitive topics. Such as cancer, slight profanity, etc. Do not read if those topics are offensive towards you!

* * *

**2.** _Zach _

**H**e sits silently in the corner. His eyes study the woman, observing how sickly thin and all too unnaturally pale she has become. She lies on the hospital bed, the same damn bed she has been sleeping on- _dying_ on for the past two months.

The woman finally notices him. Her ironically lively eyes narrow at him, a smile lights up her bony face.

"I hope you don't make watching people while they sleep a hobby." She greets as loud as she can manage- which is barely above a whisper.

He forces a smile, "Never was a chess or golf kind of guy."

She begins to laugh, but falls into a fit of long, abnormal coughs. Zach jumps up from the chair and the woman gestures with a wave of her hand for him to sit back down.

He doesn't. He gingerly grabs her by her tiny shoulders and positions her upright on the bed as her coughs gradually start to decrease. He realizes how much something as little as coughing drains her energy.

She's getting worse.

Zach was released from the hospital earlier today. After an entire two and a half days in that Hell hole. After being ambushed with thousands of questions from a variety of people: policemen, paramedics, doctors, nurses- even some girl. The girl who believes she "saved" him. _Saved_? He felt himself laugh inwardly- though it was anything but humorous.

He then pulls the chair next to her bed and sits. She grasps his hand with her weak, osseous hand.

"I have been meaning to speak to you about something," She states, her fingers slowly moving over his hand. "But I need you to be...understanding. Can you do that for me, kiddo?"

He knows what she means. What she is going to say. His jaw clenches but he remains silent. Maybe because he cannot find the words to say or maybe because he knows words at that point really didn't matter.

Her green eyes search her son's eyes. She takes a deep breath and continues, "The doctor came in this morning with the test results...it has gotten worse and I..." She pauses. "I don't have much time left, Zach. The tumors are growing and I need to discuss with you about what will happen when...when I'm gone."

_When I'm gone. _

Those words hit him and he swears it was the last straw for him. Inside, he can feel those particular words ripping his insides apart like he swallowed poison. On the outside he remains emotionless. He can't speak and won't show the pain.

"I need you to stay strong and in school, meet a nice girl and be happy. I know you have been through so much with..." She stops, knowing that mentioning the name will only make things worse. "I promise you will carry on. You have Myles and...and your father."

His eyes instantly find hers. He doesn't believe what he's hearing. _His father_?

"Now hear me out, Zach. I know you never officially met him but he's a busy man-"

"Too busy for his wife? His kid?" He retorts, but he wasn't angry, just tired. Tired of her having to make excuses for him- even on her death bed.

She releases a sigh, "Honey, I got ahold of your father a few days ago. I told him about...our situation and-"

"What does he have to do with this?" He snaps. After realizing his unintentional harsh tone, he finishes softly, "He doesn't deserve to know about this. He doesn't deserve you wasting your energy calling him, Mom. He doesn't deserve-"

"He's a changed man, Zach."

Zach didn't believe it. He already knew that people don't change. _Can't_ change.

"He abandoned you. _Us_."

"I know," She admits almost remorseful. "But I forgave him. I don't expect you to, at least not anytime soon."

He stares at his hand in hers, his mind partially trying to remember what his father even looked like. He only met him once before, when he was around five or six. Zach went _eleven years_ without seeing him. Without a phone call or letter. He didn't expect the man to make an effort to visit anytime soon.

Her body starts to shake, several coughs escaping her lips. Her red hair, that used to shine as bright as burning flames, was now dull and thin. Her skin that used to be a flawless cream was now an unhealthy pale. But her eyes, through everything, still shimmered.

"After I..." _Die. _But she doesn't say it. She blinks a couple of times and takes another deep breath, "I don't want you staying at the house alone anymore. With the medical bills and rent piling up you can't afford it- not even with five jobs." She pauses for a split second before stating, "You will be staying with your father."

His face twists into a look of anger. But he doesn't express it- well tries. He can't believe what he's hearing.

"I can take care of myself. I'm seventeen. I'll move in with Myles or even Cade-"

"_No_," Her voice barks with all the strength she has. "I will not let you turn out like that boy _Cade_." She spat his name like it was venomous. "Whether I'm here or not, I don't want you near that boy let alone living with him. He's trouble and that's the last thing you need."

He wants to tell her that he would be better off with someone like Cade than someone like his father. But he doesn't, knowing he would regret hurting her anymore.

"Your father offered to pay the medical bills and the due rent but he says he wants you to stay with him," She squeezes his hand. "Just give him one last chance. For me."

Zach nods. He didn't trust his words, he knew they held nothing but anger and hidden pain that he rather keep to himself.

A smile flourishes onto her dry lips, "I love you, kiddo."

He can see her eyes slowly drooping. He can see she is fighting to stay awake.

He lightly kisses her on her forehead, "Love you too, Mom."

She briskly falls asleep, whether it was the medicine or the cancer itself he didn't know. Normally he would still stay for the next few hours or so to spend time with her whether she was sleeping or awake. But this time, he needed to get out of that room. To breathe and get his mind off of everything_. _

He knew exactly where to go_._

* * *

**T**he sun was almost entirely out of sight, he glances at it, almost smiling to himself knowing what normally comes out when the sun goes down and the darkness takes over.

He shoves his hands in his pockets as he continues walking down the forsaken sidewalk. He can already hear the sound of music booming. He can already feel himself losing the already loose grip he had on himself- but that was OK, in fact, that's what he wanted.

He wants to let go. _Needs_ to let go.

He takes the path up to the house and walks right in. The thick stench of drugs, sex, and alcohol ambushes him. To him, it held an entirely different meaning- it meant freedom. Freedom from his life, and his thoughts. Freedom from _himself_.

"Zach!" Myles shouts once he sees him walk in. "Where the Hell have you been, man!"

Myles was not necessarily Zach's "best friend", but he was the only one Zach trusted. The only one who knew Zach for what he really could be.

Myles jumps off of the worn, old couch and makes his way through the crowd of grinding bodies to Zach.

He shrugs, "I've been busy."

Myles sees through it. He notices the look in his eyes that he's seen so many times before. He knows nothing good can come from it.

"Is your mom alright?" He slowly analyzes Zach. He notices how he looks like he hasn't slept in days. The way his demeanor is overly distant. "Better yet, are you alright? You look like shit."

"I'm fine," He responses, halfheartedly smirking. "But thanks for the compliment."

"Don't bullshit me, man." Myles retorts. "Nobody seen you in days and when you do show up, it's at my party with no examinations. I know you Zach. I know the crazy shit you've been through-"

"Do you?" He interrupts, his voice morphing from calmly distant to a mixture of ice and buried anger.

Myles doesn't reply, because he _doesn't_ really know. He only hears the rumors and knows trying to talk to Zach would be one huge mistake. Zach didn't want to talk, didn't want to "express feelings". He wanted to forget- to let go.

And that's exactly what he was planning on doing.

A cold laugh escapes his lips, "That's what I thought."

He pushes pass Myles and into the myriad of smoke and bodies. Normally he would have been able to keep up a front- crack a few jokes and force a smile. But now? _Fuck it_.

He finds himself in the kitchen, his hand already grabbing one of the glass bottles of vodka. He pours himself a shot, and instantly forces the drink down his throat.

He just thinks. Thinks and thinks and _thinks_.

Anger hits him first. Thinking about his father. How even when his mother is suffering- slowly having her life slip away from her uncontrollably- he _still_ doesn't come around to, at least, say goodbye to the woman he once loved. Not even see how his one and only son is dealing as the one person who he has left anymore is on the brink of death.

He pours the first shot with anger crashing into him. Lifts up the shot and drinks it with no regrets. He feels the vodka traveling down his throat, the equivalent of swallowing a lit match but it's the price he's more than willing to pay to stop it all. Stop the feelings.

_To let go_.

An image of his dying mother flashes across his mind. Motionless and limp, lying on her death bed. So pale and death-like. But what hits him the hardest is her unnaturally lifeless eyes- what they soon will be. He immediately takes another shot, craving the burning sensation. Cherishing what it soon will do to him, as it slowly erases the image from his mind.

He can see Addie. He sees the blood, and he hears her screams.

At this point, he's done with pouring shots. He grabs the entire bottle, instantly connecting it to his lips and drinks, not regretting a single drop of it.

It's the only way to kills what's in his head.

* * *

**Z**ach soon after finds himself walking through the bodies of those wildly dancing. He realizes how much the party has doubled within an hour. He can feel the alcohol racing through him- and he yearned for each and every second of it. He doesn't feel, he doesn't think.

_Numb_. That's what he was.

A song by Avicii blared throughout the house, shots of tequila were being poured and Solo cups full of beer made their way around. Normally, Zach wouldn't drink as much as he was. Most of the time he came to meet with those known and random and usually found themselves in nothing but trouble. He still did those things, but now for entirely different reasons.

Suddenly, he feels the bottle of vodka that he was carrying around with him fall out of his hands- or that's what he thought. He turns around, expecting to see a puddle of broken glass surrounding his feet.

Instead, a blonde girl stood with his bottle in one hand. She wears a cocky smile as she questions, "Looking for this?"

Before he can respond, the blonde girl takes a small sip, grimacing as she does. Her face twists the tiniest bit in disgust after the bottle leaves her lips.

She quickly places the vodka onto the coffee table that was covered in red cups, drink spills, and several bras. The same overly confident smile reappears on her lips as she eyes the boy in front of her. He looked careless, with his hair messy and dark eyes expressionless. His demeanor screamed reckless, and she loved the idea.

Zach goes to reach for the bottle, wanting to see if he could completely destroy his mind. Since ending his life never seemed to work. However, the blond girl slides her small body in front of him, guarding him from his rightful escape.

"You don't remember me, do you." It sounded like a question, but it wasn't. The blonde girl places her hands onto his chest, secretly admiring the hardness of it. "We met once at a party a few weeks ago, but sadly we were never _formally_ introduced."

He looks at her closely. He notices the way she wears small diamonds and expensive clothing that girls that usually went to these parties in that part of town never could afford.

She was a North girl.

They were rare but not nonexistent in the other side of town. The Norths were those who went to Rayewood North- an academy who allowed only the rich and famous. And sometimes, the Norths would find their way to a party on the other side of town- the part full of the poor and "less fortunate". The part where Zach lives.

He feels a half smirk flourish on his face. He doesn't remember the girl, and frankly, didn't care to. He was remotely surprise she would suspect him to.

"Then I should formally introduce myself," He replies. The alcohol really was getting to him. If he was sober, most likely he would have ignored her. She was exactly the person he didn't want to get involve with if he was sober.

However, the last thing he wants is to be sober.

A knowing, seductive look glimmers in her large eyes. She opens her mouth to talk but he cuts her off by forcing his lips onto hers. He heard too much already.

He guides them to the beaten couch and pulls them down. He doesn't think- can't think. In all honesty he barely has control over his actions. The vodka, momentarily, was taking over- and he cherished every second of it.

His lips were on hers but he was thinking of another's. His hands were on her body but he was hoping it was another's.

It was wrong, and a small part of him knew it. But it felt right- thinking of _her _as he continued to kiss the girl _almost_ passionately back. The only way it would be considerably passionate or even meaningful was if it was the one girl he knew it would never be- could never be.

"_Zach_," The blonde girl moaned, and she continued to attack him with her lips. She moves on top of him, and almost instantly goes to remove his shirt even as the party raved on around them.

He saw another girl. One with a heart-shaped face, the eyes of melting chocolate, and a beautiful smile.

"Addie..."

The girl stopped. Her hands froze underneath his shirt, inches away from his jeans. Her devastation was perfectly clear in her voice as she slowly replies, "My name is Blair...do you seriously not remember me?"

His eyes snap open and he sees the blonde girl who is, in fact, not Addie.

He pushes her off of him in response. Grabbing the bottle of vodka as he made his way to the door.

* * *

**D**arkness had ultimately invaded the once clear blue sky and won. He stumbles on the empty road, the vodka was long gone but he still gripped the bottle in his hand.

The events of nearly two nights ago conquer his mind unexpectedly. He distantly remembers going to clear his mind and finding himself on the metal bar, looking down at the frenzied sea, but seeing the final escape instead of more prolonged pain.

He recalls the girl too. The girl who visited him and he never got her name. The girl who "saved" him. He can't help but wonder if she truly thought that- only if she saw him now, wandering in the streets, drunk out of his mind she would see differently.

Half of him was angry at the girl. For "saving" him. For risking her own life to save his worthless one. Yet the other half was...maybe intrigued by her. But the reasons for that were even unknown by him.

_"I'm going to have to ask you some questions." The doctor stated. He had to be in his early thirties, with a concerned expression written all over his features. "Now, in order to leave you are required to answer the following questions truthfully and accurately. Do you think you are fully capable of doing such? Or would you prefer to rest longer until your family can be reached?" _

_He wanted to tell him that his "family" only consisted of his mother, who was currently too busy suffering and probably wondering why he hadn't shown up in over a day. Instead he merely confirmed, "Just ask." _

_"Do you recall the events that took place before the accident?" _

Yes_. _

_He shrugged, "Some." _

_Dr. Zaleski continued, "Can you tell me all that you can recall?" _

_"I went there because I like the view. I was too close to the water. I fell in." He said in a monotone. It was the same story he told to all of the others who asked the same thing. It was the same lie. _

_"Is that all?" The doctor asked, he held a pen and a clipboard in his hands but did not use them yet._

_"Yeah," He replies, already making his way out of the hospital bed. He needed to leave this hospital and make his way to another. "Can I leave now?" _

_"There seems to be some missing holes in your story, Zachary." Dr. Zaleski ignored him. "Can you explain how you had an BAC of precisely .20%? How you managed to leave that very important fact out? The legal limit while driving is .08%-"_

_"If _you_ do recall, __doctor, I wasn't driving." He retorted, his voice turned cold. His expression was ruthless. He needed to leave, and right there and then- before things got any worse._

_"I understand that. The legal limit _if _you were driving would be .08%, and I mention this for a reason. Alcohol is dangerous- especially while exceeding at that amount. You're lucky you are still breathing let alone survived that fall-" _

Lucky_. Zach narrowed his eyes at the word. His jaw slightly clenched. Lucky was the last damn thing he was. _

_"Listen, doctor, I would love to sit here for another day and listen to this shit but I, unfortunately, need to be somewhere." He interrupted. _

_First he had to play twenty-million fucking questions between policemen and various doctors- not to mention the girl who pulled him out from the water. Forced him back to life and lead him back to the same shit that brought him to jump in the first place._

_Zach pushed himself off of the wrinkled bed, moving passed the doctor who remained currently silent. His whole body still ached, bruises trailed across his body like cities on a roadmap. He nearly broke a few ribs, not to mention put his lungs through too much pressure and he swears they probably won't ever feel normal again. _

_Before Zach could reach the open door, Dr. Zaleski pressed on, "Alcohol is especially dangerous when being used as an antidepressant, Mr. Goode. Just remember that." _

_The door slammed in response._

The incident from earlier that morning replays in his head. He lightly wonders how the doctor put two and two together while all the others were clueless.

But then he shrugs it off, not really caring if he ever receives the answer to that or not.

He stumbles off of the road and falls into a slightly wet lawn. His eyes meet with the night sky, and he studies the kind of blurry image of the stars and constellations.

They looked beautiful. Like they were gods and goddesses or some other mythical creature.

But in reality, they were nothing more than burning gases. Stuck in the same position, with the same expectations every single night.

With no escape.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

I apologize times 1,000 for how late this update was! Between school, other stories and writer's block I struggled a bit. However, I already have about 20% of the next chapter written :) Also I will update regularly, this was REALLY late.

**Review? (:**

For those who are wondering, this story **will** deal with **emotional topic**s. I will try and post warnings before each chapter that contain them and I apologize if I offended anyone in anyway.

**This is a Zammie story! Expect upcoming Zammie moments!**


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